


Dying Light

by Jinishere725



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: ...EVENTUAL, Dbd in early days, Eventual Smut, F/M, Jake-centric fic, M/M, More Ships to come, Sabo Jake strikes, Sad opening, Slow Burn, The Trapper must hate Jake, but it gets better, dark storyline, not beta'd yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25585705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinishere725/pseuds/Jinishere725
Summary: Jake Park is among the oldest of four survivors, Meg, Claudette, and Dwight, stuck in an endless loop of fixing generators, escaping, or dying in gruesome ways by any of the three killers: Trapper, Wraith, and Hillbilly. Courtesy of a supernatural being, the “Entity”, everyone lived in fear except Jake Park, who grew accustomed to death and fear, much to the Entity's amusement. Instead of letting the Entity feed off his emotional terrors, Jake makes a deal with the Entity: fulfill its amusement by bending the rules or being creative, and receive rewards that will fulfill his desires.Said rewards end up bringing too many surprises, much to Jake's horror...and pleasure.
Relationships: Claudette Morel/Jake Park, Dwight Fairfield/Jake Park, Jake Park/Meg Thomas, Jake/Everyone
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	1. Opening I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am a huge fan of Dead by Daylight, and I was inspired to write a fanfic after reading a few myself.  
> Please leave comments, suggestions, or criticisms to help me improve!  
> Will post the next chapter in a few days. Until then, feedback is welcomed c: 
> 
> *Violence and graphic content to follow! Read with discretion!

When it first started, there was just one killer. When the Entity got bored, there were then three killers. One could turn invisible, another wielded a shrilling chainsaw, and the last one planted bear traps all over the place, catching any of the four naïve humans in their desperate attempt to survive.

One-sided wars were no fun for anyone, especially to the Entity, so those four naïve humans were not so naïve. There was Jake Park, a young man whose past solitary lifestyle made him a quiet prey to catch. Then was Meg, a young athletic runner boasting with speed, Claudette, a botanist with a specialism in medicinal plants, and Dwight, an average office worker with a surprising potential in leadership.

These four were all killed when they first started. Then, a few moments later, they revived. Somehow, their life was no longer normal and death was a phase in rebirth. This repeated endlessly for some time, the four dying and surviving, only to wake and repeat the process all over again, until it was clear. This was their life and nothing would change at all.

At his last trial, Jake sighed when he heard the chainsaw from a killer. The “Hillbilly”, they nicknamed him, had discovered him at last, a common occurrence since Jake’s quiet nature hid him better than the others. It’s a blessing he lives the longest, and a curse he watches death the most. Able to scrunch pain down and work nature to his advantage, he had neither the medicinal skills of Claudette to heal his comrades or his own pain, not the adrenaline Meg had to try to outrun an approaching killer, or even the leadership Dwight boasted to keep morale high.

And in the end, that was what Jake felt weakest the most. He was best at surviving alone, best at dying alone, and best at suffering alone. It was painstaking, pointless, and endless. At the end of the trial, Jake suddenly sat there, eyes closed, instead of bothering to run, even though running gave him more time and possibly a chance at surviving another week.

There was a brief pause before the inevitable pain. Jake grimaced, processing the familiar shred of his skin and flesh, as if blending into a liquified mess all together, just like this entire trial, this entire new life, and this endless repetition of suffering, dying, and _living_ together.

For the first time since he woke to this nightmare, Jake Park let out a loud, echoing scream, and it was over.

The next thing he knew, he woke up again, remembering everything small and detailed, next to a cracking fire and a newfound warmth.

“Jake,” familiar voices said. Jake recognized his peers from before. Again, everyone appeared healthy as if just born knowing only the lesson of fear and despair.

“What? Claudette? Meg? Dwight?” He’s suddenly dumbfounded when he finds arms around him, enveloping him in a warmth he never had in his memories.

“It’s okay. We’re here,” Claudette says.

“I—I know.” Jake peels the arms away, unused to affection. “Why a fire? You know they can find us easier this way. Put it out!”

Dwight kicked the firewood, which barely had a dent despite the fire going on for minutes. “It doesn’t work like that. This fire’s eternal.”

“And before you tell us to run away from it,” Meg adds, surprisingly accurate, “there are no killers here. We’ve been here for days and no one’s come to hunt us.”

“It’s why you feel safer here compared to before,” Claudette finishes.

All this new information comes flooding in at once, leaving Jake with no room for processing.

“…Days?” is the first thing he can ask.

“Each of us got here when we were killed.” Meg rubs her arm. “You always were able to survive the longest of all of us. We knew you were still the only one out there, trying to survive alone. I can’t imagine what kind of pain or fear you’d have, alone for days with no one but a psychotic _killer_.”

Claudette shook her head, as if living in that exact emotion Meg was talking about.

Jake felt a hand on his shoulder, and normally this would make him jump, even if he knew it was a survivor. But for some reason, he felt no need to be alert, and simply turned around to see Dwight’s oddly empathetic face.

“It’s okay now though. We heard you scream…and we knew what you were feeling.”

Jake was about to dismiss that claim until he recognized the hopelessness on everyone’s face. Suddenly, they felt like they were all together. One entity.

As Jake settled down warmly, the rest of the survivors filled him in on what happened. After dying, they woke around this campfire, that would endlessly light on, instead of back at the same, dark forest together. They had no hunger, thirsty, or fatigue, and yet, were restless with anticipation. Somehow, somewhere, all of them felt they would get a message, a calling—something that would change. And Jake, being the last person to arrive, is likely key to that change.

Minutes after explaining that, the campfire suddenly roars, as if confirming their uncertainness. The fire surges upwards as black, spiny-looking legs sprawl from beneath. A putrid black mist surrounds its crawling limbs, and in an instant everyone backs away with a scream.

Except Jake. For some reason, instead of feeling terrified or even surprised, he felt challenged. Jake feels Claudette hide behind him, shivering as she watches the spidery legs spasm forward.

**“Survivors of the Fog. Welcome to my world.”**

It’s no surprise they weren’t on Earth, but a larger surprise it belonged to _something_ , much less have that something speak for the first time. 

**“From this moment on, there will be no more endless days. The four of you and one opponent will now face a trial together in a game of survival. If you win, you will survive. If you lose, you will not be as lucky.”**

Jake felt his blood run cold. Anybody killed does not stay dead—that much is known now. And yet, with how simply such a black and white mentality of life or death changed to life or suffering, it ran the atmosphere unforgiving. Dwight was visibly shaking, Meg’s eyes stayed fearful, and Claudette—well, she remained hidden, so that spoke for itself.

Jake couldn’t let this emotion get to them all. That was how they all first died. He had neither leadership nor empathy, and could only endure. Not taking advantage of that was also how they died.

“…And?” Jake speaks out. It’s quiet, but audible. And the only voice heard from them. “What’s in it for us? What’s the point of us participating? We’re already dead, or we’ve died enough times. Any reason to fight for another ‘day’ to live?”

He swears the spider-like legs crackled, as if contemplating. Or entertained. Either way, that response was not one Jake expected. Then again, when had he ever expected anything since the day he found out death was not an escape?

**“You will see and decide for yourself. But a human is worst at adapting to pain, no matter the times. Remember that, and face a trial with choices.”**

At that moment, the legs retreated and a terrible, hazing black fog whipped out from the campfire. All the survivors shielded themselves but felt no pain. But what might be worse, a familiar feeling of apprehension returned, and as Jake lowered his arms, he realized he was no longer at the campfire.

He was in a misty area with pillars of brick walls. When Jake looks around, he realizes he is alone. Again. And yet, he felt that he wasn’t the only one here. His heartbeat wouldn’t calm down, and Jake tells himself not to be afraid.

_“The four of you and one opponent will now face a trial together in a game of survival.”_

Jake’s heartbeat increases. So this is a trial? A game of survival? Jake didn’t see much difference between this and what they’ve already been doing. The setting sure was different than some random dark forest they were in. And that machine up ahead…

Is it a light stand? Four bulbs of light flicker carefully, as if it’s out of power.

For some reason, trying to get those light bulbs to work seemed to be a good idea, even if Jake’s knowledge of machinery is close to zero. Forget skills. Forget possible dangers of tampering with electronics (A/N: don’t try this at home). He thought it could serve as a landmark, if not, be useful somehow in the future, and with that alone in his mind, Jake walks boldly towards the machine.

The moment the young man saw a few broken gears and lines, he immediately reached for it, as if he knew what he was doing. How _did_ he know what he was doing? His heartbeat was growing in apprehension, yet it was as if he knew when his actions are stable and when they could result in blowing him up.

Still bothered after a moment of tampering, Jake looks around. All of a sudden his hands freeze and his eyes widen.

The killer.

He was running after something, and in a few seconds, swings his weapon in front of him. At that same moment, Jake heard a familiar scream—Meg’s—and felt that she was severely injured.

Jake had no time to feel relieved he saw a familiar face. In silent horror, the young man watches the killer raise his bloody cleaver and slam its edge past Meg’s already-gored spine, causing her to drop to the ground. This was it…another death in front of his eyes. And yet, that didn’t happen. Instead of the usual beheading or disembowelment of the heart, the killer picked her up, slugging her over her shoulder, and carrying her off somewhere.

Sweat begins to form on his forehead. Killers were killers and all they had ever done was murder, like their name. The four of them never stood a chance against these large opponents, let alone survive indefinitely. There was always the possibility killers would take advantage of that, and now, his fears are played right in front of him.

No matter the disadvantage or futility, letting that happen to Meg was no option. He chased after the killer, watching Meg hopelessly struggle against him. She caught sight of Jake, almost pausing for a bit, and Jake froze in place upon seeing her eyes.

Fear. Horror. Like they all first experienced but later numbed to.

Jake clenches his fist. Was this their only fate?

All of a sudden he’s smashed out of his thoughts, when the killer suddenly heaves Meg over a barbarous-looking hook dangling from a pole, piercing her chest through as she releases an eternal scream. Jake winces. It looks nowhere near pleasant to endure, even for him, who could hold his intestines from gushing out a sucking wound and not make a sound.

It is then that afar, something bright lights up in a distance beyond them. The killer turns towards it, right as Jake instinctively ducks from his sight. Did he see him? His heart pounds restlessly, as heavy steps crush towards him. Teeth almost chattering away his location, Jake smashes his eyes closed as he feels the steps roar towards him, crunch behind him, and slowly in seconds, march away from his hiding spot.

His heartbeat stops smashing loudly, and Jake felt safe.

Whatever the lights were that lit up, Jake recognizes it as the pole emerging from what he was fixing earlier. But somehow, it’s not the same direction he came from earlier. In fact, as Jake turns a little to the right, he spots the exact same light stand as the one that lit from far away.

There were more than one? He’d have to figure it out later, but for now, his attention turns to Meg.

It was a horrible, bloody, and sorry sight. Jake felt enough of pain to recognize dangling from a hook by the sheer weight of Meg’s left upper shoulder could not be better than bleeding out to death. If the killer wanted to make an example, he did an excellent job at instilling fear. There’s no way Jake would want to suffer the same tragedy, and at the same time, it was so cruel, so barbaric, he felt a surge of energy boil over his blood.

He’ll get that killer. However it means. It doesn’t matter if the four of them would break their arms trying to push their murderers away. He’s done playing victim and he _will_ get even.

Jake wisps towards Meg and she looks so in pain to even notice his presence. Conscious, not dead. He sighs with relief. In a careful and gentle grasp, he swiftly pulls Meg from the hook, hearing a sickening scrape from the metal as it lodges out of her shoulder. The hook barely missed her heart. There was no way it wasn’t intentional. The killer really wanted to make her suffer, didn’t he?

“Meg,” Jake whispers. She’s whimpering in pain. “It’s okay, I’m here now.”

“Jake,” she cries, wiping her face. “I don’t know what happened. That hurt so much—it—he…”

Her shoulder burns a nasty gash and it’s difficult for her to even talk. Jake briefly examines the wound, caked with dried blood but no longer bleeding out. He sighs. Out of reflex, he reaches for his pocket, and pulls out a bandage patch.

When did he have this? He glances at Meg’s wound, seeing how perfectly the patch fits on her injury. Out of trial, he presses it over the opening, watching Meg’s painless reaction. In a few seconds, the wound starts sealing.

Jake’s eyes widen. With his free hand, he reaches for his other pocket, and pulls out another bandage patch—an exact same one with a light color in the center. Medicine, Jake guesses, but where it came from, that’s an entirely different concern.

As disturbing as it is, the idea that they were now in a game seemed more and more realistic. Medicine to heal them, random pillars to hide from, a _meat hook_ instead of execution, and…

Suddenly it all makes sense. Jake turns to the sound of a whirring machine, and pieces it together. Judging by the sound of it, there was more than one of these machines. It was likely they had to fix these, and avoid getting caught by the killer and getting placed on that hook. If someone does get on it, they have to help them. But what’s ultimately the end result? Jake didn’t know, but the rotten hook couldn’t promise anything worth dying for.

As Jake bounces back from his thoughts, he realizes, Meg’s wound has completely healed. It took less than a minute! And it’s no illusion, given how the girl’s demeanor is now healthy.

“Hey, Meg,” Jake then says, putting the bandage away. “Listen to me, I think I know what we need to do.”

And he explained, and Meg had no questions. It was likely that she knew or figured it out as well. They returned to the machine Jake had worked on earlier, bending down and tampering with it again. Again, Jake didn’t need to explain how to fix it—it was as if Meg knew too.

Somehow, their newfound knowledge and abilities grew disturbing. Letting them run around with no instructions meant inevitable death. But giving them a goal and pitting them against the odds…

It’s at that moment when Jake felt his heart beat loudly, that he turns around and sees the killer marching right towards them. Due to their position and Meg’s bright jacket, he saw her first. A nasty cleave forces Meg to run away, and Jake suddenly gets a burst of adrenaline.

“Hey!” he shouts. He tries tossing a piece of the machinery gear at the killer’s head, and it pathetically bonks off.

It certainly got the attention, though, and in an unhandsome second, the killer brings his weapon down and slashes across the man’s chest. Jake lets out a silent scream before rushing away, gripping his wound and trying to focus.

If he was going to piss the killer off, he might as well be wiser about it. As far as Jake knew, there were a total of three different killers he’s seen to this day. One could turn invisible, another could use a nasty chainsaw, and the third—

Suddenly Jake feels a sharp pain bite down at his ankle as he steps towards a patch of grass. He bends down, grabbing what he felt were two curved pieces of metal. A bear trap.

This was the Trapper, they nicknamed him. A sneaky killer who laid bear traps and killed the victim the moment they step in one. It’s as though he knew every single trap and when they were disturbed.

At that same moment, Jake feels his heartbeat grow louder, and looks behind to see the Trapper marching towards him. He had fallen for it, forgetting how each killer had their own gimmick, and that forgetting them easily spelled death. In spite of a likely grisly fate waiting, Jake suddenly hears himself laughing.

It’s a game. A wonderfully planned, brutal, murderous game. The killers had their knacks, the survivors have their perks, and it’s four helpless individuals against a murderous beast. Evade, hide, heal, fix. Trap, slash, hook, kill. What a combination he’d never thought he’d see.

It’s even when Jake is pierced through another goring hook, he still feels himself smiling. Even when he gets saved and healed by familiar faces who caught on the basics of this “game”. Even when they all get chased down trying to fix their third machine. Even when they all get trapped to a bloody basement. Even when they all screamed from getting stabbed by the four hooks in the basement. Even when the Trapper stands right in front of Jake, wondering why at his pain, his smile still stayed.

“We’re probably going to die,” he says, as Dwight cries in pain next to him. “But I have a feeling we’ll be back. What do you think, it’s not killing and living anymore—it’s winning or losing. Have you ever felt more powerless? That your killings are now just a part of a game?”

Meg and Claudette scream, and a sickening sound from above cracks towards them. The Trapper continued to stare through his mask.

“You used to kill us all the time,” Jake continues bitterly. He catches sight of several spidery legs forming from the side, the same from the campfire. “I bet you felt like us. There was no point in surviving, no point in killing. We just came back for you to kill again. Maybe you enjoyed it. I bet that chainsaw guy did.”

A barbaric stab echoes through the basement, followed by Claudette’s painful grunts. Not too long after, he hears the same with Meg from behind. Drops of blood splatter on his jacket, neck, and ears. But at least, he was going to die soon with them.

Another reason he never felt happier than before.

“Well, you’re stuck now with us.” Jake grins. The spidery legs grow and aim at his neck. Out of instinct, Jake grabs at it, pulling it back. “And this will be revenge. For all those times killing us freely, I’m going to make it that much harder for you to get the same feeling. And you’ll get to experience the pain of loss too.”

A little too stabbing in his words, Jake loses grip on the spidery leg and it slips right past his arm, piercing right through his chest and stomach. There’s no need to struggle further. He could already feel himself dying in an instant. Next to him, Dwight’s cries followed suit. And despite the despair in his peers, and his death perhaps the most agonizing of them all, Jake’s smile stayed as it is.

He had never felt death become so meaningful for once in his life. It was as if he was reawakened, rejuvenated. And so, for the first time in a long while, Jake let his consciousness drop with a hopeful thought.

Much like before, death was no ending, and Jake finds himself opening his eyes in the middle of a dark fog. He looks around, puts his hands in front of him, walks forward, but nothing changes.

**“Now, my first survivor,”** Jake hears, recognizing it as the creature from the campfire. **“You, of the rest, are the most interesting one alive.”**

“Aren’t I dead?” Jake sneers. He certainly felt dead, if his cold body and immobile heart were to say. It could also be this black fog playing tricks on him. Somehow it wasn’t new.

**“Death is no escape in this world. And yet you are the first to realize that.”**

Suddenly, Jake sees flashing images in his head. He recognized them right away—images and scenes of when he first arrived, when he first met other people, when he first encountered a killer, and when he first tasted death. Jake watches quietly, as the past him went from hiding as much as possible, to abandoning his peers if it meant another day to breathe, to accepting death as if it were judgment, to learn the dreadful loop of life and death, to eventually, forgetting the importance of such heavy stages of humanity, risking a decapitation to give his peers a second breath, and to walking in pain, soulless without a thought or wish. And then was his last death before waking at the campfire.

Even back then as others screamed in fear of death and clung onto the luxury called life, Jake himself knew it as a meaningless stage, far too early for any reasonable human being.

“What even are you? What the hell do you want?”

**“I am being of this world. The Entity that controls them all.”**

“An Entity?” Jake wanted to spit, laugh, or discredit anything from that statement. Killers, he understood. They were sadistic, murderous, and non-human. His peers, no question there. None of them want to die. But an _Entity_? An evil god? A malicious being?

It’s not even something definable by the real world—only poked at with religion. Why, of all things, is _this_ the main perpetuator? Jake’s thoughts started firing.

“You said you’re the being of this world,” Jake speaks out. “Why were we dragged here? To get killed over and over again?”

**“It is a simple concept you all practice. Food.”**

“Death is your food?” Jake didn’t know why he felt angry at that. He didn’t know what he was expecting, to be honest—cold-hearted torture or hell? Jake knew he didn’t have the best life in the world, or was anywhere near the best person. From dropping out of university to running away to live in the woods, all because of pressure, the idea of suffering death repeatedly as a punishment didn’t seem too unreasonable. And yet, it was still absurd. Murderers, rapists, kidnappers, they were all far worse than him.

And learning his peers’ backstories made him all the more sick. Not any one of them were guilty at all, and in fact, Jake knew of all of them, he was the one who brought it upon himself the most. The others did nothing wrong, and yet, are forced to die…as food for some being?

**“To be more precise, emotions are. Fear, despair, terror, hope… The more you exert them, the more powerful it is for me. When the four of you die with such emotions so strong, my ability to reach to further worlds grows stronger.”**

“And? What happens to us, then, if we keep dying?”

**“Death is no escape. But each meaningful death takes a fragment of your soul. When your soul becomes depleted, you will be nothing but a hollow shell, best sent to a Void.”**

Jake flinches when he feels a slithery limb grab his body. He pulls away, but can’t move.

**“But you, Jake Park. You will likely never meet that fate. From the first few moments alone, you learned the new nature of death. And from that first trial itself, you had emotions stronger than others but different in nature. You are the perfect character for this world.”**

Something sharp and burning stabs right through his lungs, forcing a silent scream out of Jake’s mouth. It is ten times worse than an attack from any killer, even from a chainsaw. And yet, remembering death is an object here, he lets go of pain and endures it. The same occurs for his throat, pierced through and inducing a choke, his arms, just about severed away and torn from his body, and his head, broken past the skull and eyesight blinded by blood.

He felt death come close again, and relaxed his breath.

**“Even now, you accept death as a passing whim. It’s a shame the others are not as lucky.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jake is kinda snarky in this story... Not recommended to egg on a killer in Dbd to increase survival chances.


	2. Opening II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember this part taking 2 days to write. Never wrote that fast before. 
> 
> Warning: Mild violence. Survivors' actions may cause frustration for pro-DbD players.
> 
> Also Dwight is Dwight and Meg likes hugging Jake ;)

Rebirth is the same as waking up from a cold, cold dream. Jake’s fingers twitched slightly, his eyes slowly opening. With the familiar sound of a fire cracking, Jake felt it was safe and sat up from playing dead.

“Jake!” someone shouts.

He doesn’t have over a second to turn around before Meg covers him with a huge hug.

“Uh…uhm…” the solitary survivor stutters. He’s still not used to affection.

“Jake, you’re awake!” Claudette chirps. By her, Dwight stares nervously at him, as if being awake is a luxury of the time.

“Why?” he asks. “How long was I not?”

“You’ve been asleep for a day.”

Asleep is a nice euphemism for “death”. Then again, the idea of death doesn’t exist here as it would traditionally. The same is true with time. How one could tell the difference between days, hours, years, or seconds, certainly visual cues are no valid indicators.

It’s a grumbling thought, but it was likely they _knew_. Thanks to that being.

Jake stands up with Meg’s help and a slight silence later, Meg hugs him again.

“M-Meg?”

“We thought we lost you,” she exhales. “All of us, we came back here moments after we died in the basement. But you…you weren’t even moving or breathing.”

“That was our first trial,” Dwight sighs. “We didn’t know what to expect. I thought, the last person who dies stays dead forever!”

Jake shakes his head and blinks. “No, I didn’t. I was…being talked to. By the Entity.”

They all pause.

“Didn’t you guys see it too? The black fog? The spidery-looking creature?”

Claudette rubs her arms. “I remember that thing piercing through my chest before I died.”

“Same,” Meg bitterly says.

They didn’t see it? Jake blinks a few times before realizing, his meeting with the Entity was personal and a special message to him. Of course, its main point was that somehow, Jake was different than others. And that he might just never see the same fate of his allies. How that hit him, he didn’t know.

“ _When your soul becomes depleted, you will be nothing but a hollow shell, best sent to a Void.”_

Jake almost shivers at the name “Void”. It’s as malicious as it sounds. He briefly scans his peers, his peers’ unawaring face. If they didn’t meet the Entity, they’d probably never know their final fate. _If_ they do as the Entity wants and be hallowed with terror. Then again, if he did tell them, that might just chip their spirit instantly to be sent to the Void.

Oh man, it was a gambit. Jake hated this. Now he knew why the Entity only spoke to him. It’s a terrifying move, so calculated and simple. If the Entity’s right, his peers will be devoid of soul before him. And if he didn’t want to be alone, he’ll face that same fear.

Jake sighs before looking up to see Claudette’s horrified face.

“Are you okay? You look extremely pained.”

“What? I—” He shakes his head and tries to smile. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t need to hide it, Jake,” Dwight says in a reassuring voice. “Claudette’s got a strong sense of empathy. She can tell if we’re hurt or not.”

Jake’s eyes widen. “Really?”

She nods. “Actually, while you were out, we figured something out. Each of us has a different talent. Meg’s really fast and good at running, Dwight’s very good at coordinating and being a team leader, and me, I’m good with plants and using them as medicine.”

She gestures at the flower near the log, and in a demonstration, picks it up, pulls a bandage patch out of her pocket, and rubs the flower against it. Jake could tell based on the color of the medicine, it’s grown more effective.

“What about you?” Meg asks from behind. “We didn’t get a chance to guess your talent.”

In honesty, Jake has seen about everyone’s skills even before the trials began. Though they had similar abilities in detecting a killer or being nimble around obstacles, Meg stood out in speed, Claudette invented medicine before it came in bandages, and Dwight was amazing at boosting everyone’s morale.

And as for Jake, all he remembered, was that he was always the last one standing. Maybe that was it?

“I’m…quiet,” he says.

As if to enforce that, there’s a silent pause. So much for living in solitude in his past life.

“Actually,” Meg realizes, “that’s kind of true. I never heard you make a noise, even when you’re bleeding to death.”

Dwight’s eyes are the largest, as if imagining the amount of willpower needed to suppress that. “Ow.”

“That’s a talent?” Jake is honestly puzzled.

Apparently, none of them had it.

“Staying quiet even with a wound that bad…” Claudette shakes her head. “There’s a reason I can tell when people are hurt.”

Meg puts her hand on his shoulder. “You have a pretty good ability for that, but you don’t have to endure it. If you’re hurt, run to one of us for help, all right? There’s only so much a person can take.”

He agreed. And yet, if this was what let him live the longest before, he didn’t see what would prevent others from doing so too.

In that moment, the air around them suddenly feels heavy. They turn to the campfire, which cracks louder, and a familiar black fog rushes around them. A few of them cough, but nothing is particularly sickening, except for an uncanny feeling of being shifted and wisped around.

When the fog clears, Jake finds himself in the middle of a farm with multiple corn stalks. It tells him immediately, he is in another trial. That means there’s another killer, another game, and another death coming.

“…Screw that.”

Jake remembers the entire scenario completely. There were several machine looking things, and they seem to be the key. He runs around the place for a minute, looking for one of those objects. Right as he spots one, he immediately halts in his step as a tall, disheveled figure walks right by it.

He recognizes him. The Hillbilly. Chainsaw visible in his hand, it would be a bad idea to get run over by him.

His heart is beating loudly, and he tries to hold his breath as he ducks behind a pile of rocks. If he runs, he’ll be panting louder, and that’s not a good thing for hiding. He would have to remember that for future purposes.

Fortunately, the Hillbilly stumbles away, and when Jake makes sure he’s gone, he heads towards the machine and inspects it briefly.

BAM!

Jake shields his face from an explosion, cursing at how it gave him a heart attack. When the flares die down, he notices Dwight’s face emerge from behind the machine.

“Jake! You scared me!”

“I literally would’ve said the same as you.” His heartbeat increases in pace. “The killer’s coming. We have to run!”

They take off. Dwight veers left while Jake makes a sharp turn right. A rusty, loud engine—the sound of a chainsaw—growls from behind him, and Jake leaps over an opening by the wall. As soon as he turns around, he catches a split second of the Hillbilly running past him.

That speed was terrifying. And yet, with that kind of sprint, it must be difficult to control.

Jake hides behind some gas tanks, crawling slowly away from the Hillbilly’s range of sight as he looks for him. He is heartbeat is irrationally fast at times, and gradually slower at others. Eventually, when he feels it fade back into a soft rhythm, he stands up, calves exhausted from the squatting, and walks away.

It was like that for a while. The killer might be around, Jake would hide, crawl away from sight, and walk away. Then he would go right on to fixing a machine, occasionally looking around for both the killer or a friendly. Oddly, despite not seeing them anywhere, he could feel two of them become injured from a chase, though, He wonders if this was what Claudette meant by empathy, but upon looking up, he could not see nor hear anyone in vicinity.

In one encounter, Jake almost has his eyes chainsawed away. Fortunate reflexes save him from blindness, but lands him on his bottom, unable to get up in time to avoid a hammer smashing down his back. He soon got away and stealthily avoided a grisly end, but when the young man pulls out the medicinal patch from his pocket, he felt nothing when he attached it to his wounds.

_You’re kidding. We can’t heal ourselves?_

Sucking in a breath, Jake decides to just finish what he was doing. Finishing another, he makes a bolt for it, since a loud, flashing light is probably not a stealthy move. In the process of finding another machine, he bumps into Meg, who was also injured.

“I can’t believe these patches don’t work on ourselves,” she cries as Jake heals her. “I couldn’t even hide because it doesn’t even stop bleeding.”

“That’s why you ran away, huh.” He watches as the wounds seal on Meg, and his eyes widen when he sees a faint trace of black mist sealing the injury.

_Damn Entity_.

“Here, let me do you.” She gets up and Jake bends down to show her his battered back. “Oh geez. That monster really has no humanity with how he smashed your spine. How are you not in pain?”

Jake lets out a few breaths as he feels his condition slightly recover. “Believe me, I’m in a lot of pain.” He feels the blood trickle down to his face and he wipes it with his gloves on instinct. The same one he used to fix old, dusty machines. Great, now his face is a mess.

There’s a sharp, intense pinch on the upper part of his spine and Jake yelps from the sudden sting of it.

“Shit! Sorry!”

“All good,” he half-lies. “Must be the harsh wound.”

He hears his heartbeat get louder, and he prays for Meg to hurry up. The chainsaw noises weren’t too far away.

“Go, go, go!” he shouts as soon as his wound is patched up in time. He runs as fast as he can and avoids the chainsaw by a risky amount. The moment the chainsaw stops though, steps are right behind him, and Jake feels his just-healed back pelted again.

Maybe he’s just destined to be in silent pain forever. He looks behind for the killer, but his heartbeat has calmed down. Meg was nowhere to be seen.

Jake moves on and tries to go back to the machines. At least he’s not hooked or dead. He sure is bleeding copious amounts though. Off to the side, Jake hears the chainsaw again, and upon peeking, sees Claudette running away from the Hillbilly, only to be chainsawed as she lets out a scream.

He half curses at choosing this machine over her, but if they fixed them maybe they would survive. He’s yet to see what would happen.

All of a sudden, Jake hears the chainsaw again. When he turns to the left, suddenly the Hillbilly charges at him, and in that split second his side was gored open and the man fell.

So much for machines over people.

The feeling of a hook jabbing over his shoulder was never fun to experience. A searing pain rips right through his tendons and he grabs at it. It worsened his injury and Jake leaves it alone, deciding it’d be better to wait for someone instead.

He hears the lighting of another machine, and looks up. One, two, three, four… If Jake was right, he counted a total of eight machines. They were only half done.

In the midst of his thoughts he is grabbed by a pair of hands and yanked off the hook. It grinds right past his open wound and he grunts in response. Dwight.

“Where was the killer?” Jake asks after they healed, and now hid behind some hay bales. He peeks up and sees a rumbling machine, stained with a tiny bit of blood. Someone must’ve tried to work on it earlier.

“No idea,” Dwight says, gesturing him to follow. “But last I saw Meg was running away from something.”

They bent down to start working. Just before Jake grabs the electrical lines, Dwight stops him.

“What?” he asks.

“Not that. The hardest part is making the gears work, and it’s better if we time it together.”

Even though Jake was never an electrician to begin with, somehow that sounded true. So he decides to follow Dwight’s advice, and truth to be told, they were much faster as a result. When Jake connects the last two lines without fail, the machine lights up and suddenly, two loud red alarms blared at different walls.

“What was that?” he asks.

He’s met with Meg’s scream as a response.

“I’ll save her,” Dwight says. “You go after what just sounded.”

Jake nods and quietly heads the direction he saw the lights flare. As quickly as they lit up, they darkened immediately. It takes the young man a little longer than a minute to find the source of the sound, and when he does his eyes widen.

A gate. It’s powered by electricity.

It suddenly made sense. That’s what the machines were for. They weren’t just light sources; they were generators, connected to these gates. Jake reaches for the switch and it takes a few strong yanks to tug it down.

The gate sounds as old as it acts, because it certainly takes a long time to open.

“Jake!”

“Oh! Shit!” He grabs his chest and sees Claudette behind him. “You really scared me there.”

“Sorry about that. Where’s Meg and Dwight?”

“Meg’s in trouble, and Dwight told me he’d save her.” He felt Meg still on the hook, and reaches for the handle again. A loud blaring noise echoes through the entire area, and Jake knew, that’s not the quietest escape ever.

At that moment though, both Claudette and Jake felt be saved Meg off the hook. A few seconds later, he hears the chainsaw power up again, not too far from where they are. A drop of sweat runs down his face. Soon later, he hears Dwight and Meg behind him.

The gates finally open. At that time Jake sees the Hillbilly ready to charge at them.

“RUN!” he yells, and they take off.

Meg is the first one out, due to her speed. Then Claudette. The Hillbilly raises his hammer and aims at Jake, who’s already running with a limp.

_F—_

Suddenly he hears Dwight’s voice and gets pushed out. Very soon Dwight runs after him, urgently pushing him out.

Jake follows, and the feeling of safety washes over them. They survived. They won.

He sighs with relief, looking for his teammates to rejoice. Only they were not around. He was surrounded by nothing but a white fog.

“Hello?” he calls out. His voice doesn’t even echo and falls with a flat note.

**“You and your friends have survived. How does it feel?”**

He doesn’t need to see putrid, cracking limbs to know that’s the Entity.

“What do you want?” Jake asks, half-annoyed. Even for a supernatural being, it sure can carry a tone of mockery.

**“The first is a loss. The second is a win. From then on, an uncertainty of hope and fear are your remaining predictions.”**

The young man clenches his fist. Maybe they weren’t so lucky after all. Come to think of it, the four of them might’ve actually done something this time, but had so many mistakes. Dwight exploded the first generator in less than a minute, Meg accidentally ripped a part of Jake’s skin, causing him to yelp, Jake himself got a chainsaw in the face thinking the killer’s distracted, and Claudette likely got chainsawed the most with no room to heal.

And of course, that last moment, Jake was supposed to have taken the hit. Somehow Dwight pushed him away, and they all escaped miraculously.

It was a guaranteed win. And yet, even before learning that, Jake didn’t feel a hint of happiness.

“Then, if you want to know, that felt miserable. Nothing to be hopeful about.”

**“Oh?”**

“You have us escape this entire match. Maybe in the future the four of us can be more coordinated, and maybe we can win again, without making mistakes. Then what? We escape with our ‘lives’, and I’m the only one that knows it delays a bit of our fate. What’s the difference with this and back then, when we were in an open dark forest? No generators, no hooks, just fighting to live another day, and wake up anyways if we end up killed.”

**“A good point. Once again, you are the only survivor who feels a different emotion than intended. The rest of them felt relieved and hopeful to win again next time.”**

Jake’s guard lowers at that. “Rest of them? You’re talking to them too this time?” He didn’t need a verbal response for confirmation. “Are you going to tell them about the Void? Their eventual fate?”

**“You were told about the Void because you may never enter it. The rest are not as lucky.”**

He didn’t know how to feel about it. How would anyone feel if they knew the tragic fates of their comrades, only to not be able to tell them and watch it slowly happen?

Jake’s emotion returns, and he clenches his fist again. As any typical hero would declare, he wanted to save them. The most obvious thought, he knew, would be to teach them, to guide them, not to submit to fear, and see the trials as a true game. But how would they? To Jake, this was a game because he was always the last survivor back then. He had learned what death was and what meaningless term it became in this world. He walked with a living breath longer than any of his comrades. He knew with this world’s “nature”, how false everything was.

But his peers, they still ran from the killers, terrified of dying again and again. Jake, who watched them die repeatedly, never hated the killers for finally ending his forced solitude. Days of enduring nasty but non-fatal wounds hardened him enough to oversee injuries. And so, he couldn’t blame them for fearing death.

All that, and Jake knew, there was little he could do to save them of their fate. If anything, he wanted them to be happier, to embrace in the good emotions and to minimize the bad ones.

“Then let them be happy,” Jake says aloud to the Entity. “If we win. Please. There’s no point in trying if it’s just to avoid another death. At some point, even they’ll lose faith and stop trying at all.”

There’s a slight silence.

**“It seems that would inspire them a bigger reason to hope. But winning means nothing if your emotions dawn on nothing. The same goes for losing. It is emotion that is food to me, not success or failure.”**

“Then reward us by how much of those emotions you’ll feed off of. If we’re whimsical with our actions, then don’t treat us. If we’re terrified out of our wits, give us a few hours to rest and be calm.”

**“Interesting. Then what will _you_ offer?”**

Jake pauses. “What?”

**“Of all survivors, you are the one who exhibits the least fear, terror, or despair. What will you do for the same offer?”**

That must be a lie, Jake thought. But it’s denial at his finest. He knew he was human, and felt the same fear the others did, when the killers would chase them, when he is stabbed over with a hook, or when he watches his friends fall before him. But to say he was as afraid as others?

“Forget me,” he says. “I just want the others to be happy for now.”

**“There will come a time when you have something in mind. Until then, the four of you may find gifts for you back at the campfire. Consider it an early reward for this trial.”**

The fog sweeps around, and Jake’s visibility is shrouded. When it dissipates, Jake finds himself back at the campfire, where the others are just entering as well.

In front of the fire laid a few items. Jake walks forward to inspect it. A shiny, white toolbox, a tied-up scroll, a first-aid kit, a flashlight, and a key. 

“What is all this?” he hears Claudette ask, picking up a toolbox. She opens it and inside are wrenches, screwdrivers, metal scraps, and a rag. It definitely looks like it could speed up the time it takes to fix a generator.

The medical kit was self-explanatory. Meg reaches for the flashlight and clicks it a few times. Maybe it’d be good for dark places. Dwight picked up the scroll and Jake reached for the small key.

He wasn’t sure if this was for some secret room or such. The gates that they had to open had no such keyhole.

“What in the world is this?” Dwight asks, revealing the scroll to be empty, and only a stamp inside. Dwight picks it up and tries to stamp the parchment, but nothing is marked. Sighing, he ties the scroll back with the black silk cord it came with.

Seems like aside from the toolbox, first-aid kit, and flashlight, the rest of the items none of them know.

Jake sighs and sits on the log. A part of him is excited to try out all these new items, securing them a chance for a win. But another dreads at the new truth. He is sure the Entity didn’t tell the others the new deal he made. That means they’d have no idea fear is the proper response to a break from all this.

He looks up and watches Meg pretend to be a ghost with her flashlight, scaring the wits out of poor Dwight. He releases the same scream as when he gets pierced over the hook, and for some reason, that alone made Jake crack a smile.

Maybe, one day, they’d all have their break, and find joys in what little they’d have. Jake knew that for certain, that he wasn’t the only one who’d ever numb themselves the idea of death.

But if they could ever find some happiness easier than Jake could, he’d help them as much as possible.


	3. Empathy I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a roll here with how fast content is coming out!
> 
> Warnings: Murder and graphic content below. 
> 
> This next few chapters focus on Claudette a bit. Some Claudette/Jake moments here if you squint.

He knows his panting makes him a louder alarm to find by the killer, but Jake was done wasting time strolling around for generators, which would take even more time to fix, and there’s at least 5 of them in need of fixing.

As soon as Jake spots one, he dives straight for it, and at the same time, sees his ally Dwight running away. A soft, repetitive thud of his gasping heart told him the killer was likely chasing after him, and with a nightmarish chime of a bell echoing through the area, Jake knew it was they killer they nicknamed the “Wraith”.

Why? Because he was invisible most of the time, and that bell easily meant he was behind you, spelling death.

Jake hears Dwight scream and felt his friend fall down onto the ground. It’ll be like that, and the killer will sever him over a dangling meat hook, because that’s their method of killing in these trials. From experience, he’s seen that a person has about a minute before a ghastly being called the Entity pierces through their soul and consumes a fragment of it each time.

Except him. It always irked him that the Entity found Jake “interesting” and, while letting him experience the same, scorching pains of being sacrificed, never bothered to eat Jake’s soul simple because the man was that much better at enduring fear and despair.

It’s been a moment and Jake hasn’t heard or felt anyone getting hung up on a hook. He briefly glances upwards, not that he could see anyone particularly. But a few seconds after he does, he suddenly felt Dwight’s presence leave the entire area, and his hands stop working.

_Did…did Dwight just…die?_

They were less than three minutes in this trial, and somehow, Dwight bled to death. He couldn’t recall feeling Dwight in pain prior at all, and there was no way he could miss the feeling of somebody getting hooked. Their screams were loud enough, and even if they weren’t, one could still feel the other’s dread.

But as for Dwight…he’s just gone. When Jake goes back to the generator, his only intuition was that somehow, he was killed.

An unnerving bead of sweat begins to form at his forehead. It’s been a long while since anyone was actually killed by a murderer’s hands, and he’s been through enough trials to see hooking was the preferred execution method. What could’ve changed?

The generator lights up, signaling completion, and Jake dashes away to find the next one. A few seconds later, he hears another generator light up and he thanks his peers for being on it. Running around to look for the next generator, Jake finds one by a pile of cars, and sees someone heading towards it.

“Oh, Claudette,” he calls. She sort of waves as a greeting and they begin fixing the generator together. “How’s that toolbox for efficiency?”

Of the items they had, Claudette took the toolbox, which contained many impressive tools that’d make fixing machines much easier. Jake held a flashlight, though he never used it once, since the lighting in this area actually wasn’t half bad, thanks to the moon. He knew that Meg took a first-aid kit and Dwight had a scroll that was apparently blank when they looked at it by the campfire. If Meg got hit maybe she could use the kit to patch herself up. If only Dwight had it instead of some scroll…

Seems like items can really change the game, if anything.

The two of them managed to fix the generator and they preemptively looked for the next one. In the process of spotting one in the distance, hearing a chime, seeing they’re clear, and beginning to fix it, Jake felt that Meg was likely struck harshly with a wound, only for it to be healed again. And then half a minute later, hit again.

“She’s fast,” Claudette notes. “I can see her running back and forth something.”

Jake almost didn’t catch it with the generator starting to make more noise. “You can _see_ her? Like where she is?”

Claudette nods. “I told you, I have a strong sense of empathy. I can tell where others are if they’re in intense pain. Even you, though you’re quiet.”

Jake could feel that his teammates are hurt, but never know exactly where they are, unless their groans of pain are audible enough.

“You’ll have to teach me how to do that. I could help you guys a lot if I knew where you were if you’re in trouble.”

Claudette cracks a smile. “All you have to do is be empathetic.”

“Hey!” Jake exclaims. “Are you saying I’m heartless? I _am_ also empathetic!”

“But can you relate to their pain?” This stops Jake in his tracks. “I’m not saying having a heart is what you need. It’s that this kind of empathy is one that knows how the person is built when confronted with possible death. To be honest, it’s not an amazing feeling. Whenever someone’s hurt, I can feel a strong sense of dread and regret, like they don’t want to die, even if we have a lot of times before.”

Jake knew that feeling. It’s the same kind of despair when he used to be the same as everyone, running away from threat and backed straight into a helpless corner. Though this was far longer than he could remember. He knew at some point, his determination to outlive that feeling drew him to hide, to learn to cover his tracks, to stay quiet, even if his gushing wound threatened the collapse of his organs. And by the time he learned, he never felt that same dread again. It didn’t mean he forgot it, but seeing the others bask in fear, getting killed before his eyes, begging to die officially this time around…

Meg lets out a painful scream, and Claudette nearly flinches.

“She’s in trouble. We have to help her!”

“Wait, Jake!”

Jake didn’t want to waste more of his selfishness. If Claudette was empathetic and all Jake could do was be quiet, then he could at least make up for his selfishness by risking it. Only he stops in his tracks when he feels a different sensation of terror from Meg. She’s on the ground, and Jake could tell that. But why she stayed there, with the inescapable screams of agony, he didn’t want to understand.

And yet, at the same time, the moment Jake felt her presence leave just like Dwight’s, he shook in revelation.

The Wraith was actually killing them on the spot. Why is that?

The generator they were working on lights up, and Jake sees Claudette running towards him. At that time, the uncanny chime of the Wraith’s bell sounds through the place, and they knew they had to escape.

The two duck behind a large rock and made their way across the place without attracting noise. They had one last generator to fix out of the remaining three, but one of them would likely die, if not both, given the situation.

“Claudette, we have to split up.”

She didn’t like that idea. “If we work on the generator together, it’ll be faster. We can probably both escape!”

“Or we’ll probably be found together. The generator’s loud when it’s getting fixed, right? That means he’s going to find it even if one of us tries to distract him, and he’ll likely just come back for it when his distraction’s killed. But if we work on different generators far apart, he might not find the other.”

She shakes her head, as if trying to deny that strategy. It’s likely better than being together, but at the cost of someone dying?

“Fine,” she says. “But let’s at least be together until we both find a different generator.”

Jake has no problem with that and they walk together, close to each other. Every once in a while, one of them would look back, or they’d squat down to hide behind a large obstacle. Jake always wondered why there were so many rocks, irregular walls, and openings for them to jump through. Now that he remembers this whole thing is a game, it makes absolute sense the Entity wanted to give them some jungle gyms to chase around with. He didn’t know if that was more disturbing than watching them die anyways.

He climbs over a few slowly, with Claudette following behind. Right as he turns around, he freezes in his steps.

_Dwight_.

His body was in a terrible condition, lifeless and clearly abused out of brutality. Jake could see the battered parts of flesh, bleeding out and skin hammered in, crushing the arteries to the point of explosion. This was visible in at least four different areas, which all made it more sickening. If Jake had no endurance for this, he would’ve vomited right there.

Claudette’s panicked gasp meant it was too late to shield her from it. Jake looks away, knowing her empathy easily doubled the amount of pain she would’ve felt from looking at him. Maybe all talents had its flaws too. Jake never felt lonelier being the quietest one to avoid death, even if it made him more resilient to these trials.

And maybe he wouldn’t have had the Entity separate him from the others too.

He’s about to usher Claudette away from the ghastly sight, until he notices the scroll in Dwight’s hand, half open. Last time he and Dwight looked at it near the campfire, it was absolutely blank. And yet, when Jake peeked closer, there were noticeable imprints on it.

That’s when Jake reaches for it, and opens the entire scroll. His eyes widen. It’s a map of the area. And more impressively, red imprints that edged the shape of a generator were scattered over the map. It couldn’t be…

“Dwight, I’ll thank you when I get back.” He looks over to Claudette, who peeks at the map.

“What is it?”

“A map of the area.” She blinks. “You can’t see it?”

He wonders if it’s the poor lighting. Flicking a switch on his flashlight, he shines it on the map, and it glows even brighter.

“See? Based on its drawing, this is where we are, and those red marks are where the generators are. There’s one here, here, and…this one’s close, maybe you can reach it first.”

He takes a brief glance at Claudette’s confusion.

“Here, you take the map. I’ll head to the farther generator and you use this map to work on either of the two.”

“Well, that’s certainly a lot of things.” She tries to fit the map into the toolbox, but to no avail. “I guess I’ll leave the box here. Its tools all broke anyways. By the way, what’s this red box by the corner?”

“What red box?” He shines the flashlight down on the map, but before he gets a look, there’s a hellish, alarming bell sound behind him.

“Jake, run!”

Out of instinct he turns around, the flashlight shining on an appearing Wraith, raising its weapon on him. Jake backs away immediately and is about to run with Claudette, when he hears a loud growl from the killer, as if in pain. The Wraith stops transforming immediately and Jake makes a run for it.

Was that because of the flashlight? He suddenly realized what it could be used for. In an instant he switches it off and heads to where he memorized the farthest generator was.

It was difficult to know if the Wraith was following him or not, and Jake’s heartbeat stayed as calm as usual. He gambled that he was alone and set to work on the generator the moment he spotted it.

For several long seconds, he seemed fine. Then at the tenth second, the nightmarish bell chimed again. Jake does his best to run, but is pelted with a stinging pain on his right shoulder as he takes off. His heart is now beating rapidly, and as Jake looks behind him, the Wraith is steadily approaching him with his glowing eyes centered at him.

If they emit light, then…

In a risk, Jake turns around, blaring his flashlight at the killer’s face. Once again, the Wraith screamed, and Jake uses this opportunity to run as far as possible. When he’s far away enough, he walks over to a pile of rocks and takes a moment to recollect himself.

His heart is beating and he tries to look for the Wraith. The crows resting on the rock seemingly turn left, as if anticipating something. Jake turns in that direction and sees the Wraith looking at the ground as he walks.

Jake froze. His blood. His accursed wound left a trail right to him.

The moment Jake felt the Wraith approach him, he takes off, aiming his flashlight again at the killer. Only this time, the flashlight did not switch on. It was out of battery. Nearly cursing, the young man threw his flashlight away and made a run for it.

He was unable to get far before a sharp jab struck his spinal nerves so badly he fell without another movement.

Knowing he would die soon, Jake tries his best to heave himself over to face the killer. The Wraith looks down on him, almost tilting his head.

“You’re good,” he breathes, grasping his nerve-damaged body. “For the first time, I didn’t know how to hide against you. And you managed to get all my allies. How come you aren’t putting us on the hook?”

The Wraith did not answer, and rose his weapons. Jake closes his eyes and felt merciless streams of blows mutilate his chest, ribs, abdomen, and eventually, heart. None of these he could hold in his screams, yet it was perhaps the most revealing part of this whole game.

That kind of pain almost felt like the Entity stabbing him during a sacrifice. So the killer must’ve been told to do so by the Entity to make these trials interesting.

Jake feels himself growing cold in an instant, and when he softens his expression, he promptly passes away.

Of course, that’s not how this world works. The whole point of trials was to go through fear, hope, fear again, and despair. Then death comes and everyone’s at their greatest emotional limit. Perfect for the god of this world to feed on, seeing as they relish in those kinds of emotions the most.

Usually when they die, they wake back up at the campfire. Only sometimes, it doesn’t happen to Jake. And he knows why.

Out of everyone else, Jake is the only individual the Entity does not feed as much on. And the only individual bold enough to make offers for the Entity. Like promised when Jake last made a deal with it, all his comrades would enter a few hours of bliss and peacefulness in exchange for the immense dread they were surrounded in for the last three trials.

**“Welcome back, Jake Park.”**

Jake opens his eyes, and he’s in a field filled with white fog.

“Where are the others?” he asks.

**“They are in a dream where they are free to explore the grounds without a killer after them. The other, Claudette, is back at the campfire.”**

“What? That’s not what we promised. You said you’d give them a time for peace if they’ve endured enough fear for the match.”

**“The fear in your allies’ core were at peak when they were executed by the last killer. Only Claudette did not face this same fate. She escaped through a back door.”**

Had it been any other situation, Jake would’ve actually laughed. A back door? He didn’t know things like that existed in a world as bleak as this, but the Entity’s never lied.

**“And you,”** Jake hears a cracking noise and feels a limb seize up his right arm, **“Jake Park, has once again felt less fear than you had thrill.”**

He wouldn’t deny it. He’s been through that phase. For Jake, these trials are just as painful and fearsome at times, but a game to him nonetheless. It certainly makes anyone thrilled to discover more rules or features of a game especially when they were getting comfortable.

“Is thrill not appetizing for you?” he mocks. He feels a small puncture on his right arm but he ignores it.

**“Less than fear and lacking in power.”**

“I guess I get no reward this time then. For once though, you should take an emotion other than fear or despair from me, because those aren’t that strong in me.”

**“Thrill means little to me. However, pushing the limits and learning the rules that quickly…I am pleased.”**

The spidery leg wrapped around Jake’s right arm suddenly grew scorching hot. Jake yells, trying to pry it off, but could only watch it promptly pierce its tip into his forearm, and extracting a steady stream of blood.

“Pleased enough to eat me, I guess.”

He knew the Entity had no such intentions but felt like saying it anyways. After a rather disturbing gnaw at his wound, the Entity’s limb raises upwards and stabs straight into Jake, ensnaring his consciousness and rendering his body cold.

**“When you return to the next trial, you will learn a new ability for yourself. Use it as you like.”**

Jake’s right arm is the only thing pulsing with heat before his entire body grows cold.

Then warm again, when next to a campfire. As Jake opens his eyes, he catches sight of his comrades, two of whom has a different expression.

It seems Dwight and Meg really had a break.

“Hey Jake,” they greet as he gets up. “Did you have that dream too?”

“Of running around without a killer? Yeah.”

_Blatant lies, but the truth is worse._

“How am I the only one that didn’t have that dream?” Claudette sighs and shakes her head in worry. This concerned Jake. How would she do in subsequent trials if her morale is getting shaken like this?

“Did you escape last match?”

“I did. Remember that map that you took from Dwight?”

Jake wished she worded it better because now Dwight looks at Jake, offended.

“It had a red box on it. I was wondering what it was and the Wraith was after me. It turns out, there’s like a hatch on the ground in the middle of a shack.”

“A hatch?” He swore he had explored the area enough, especially a symbolic shack, that he would’ve seen a hatch.

Claudette nods. “When I jumped through it, the next thing I knew, it closed right behind me, and I woke up back here.”

“Seems like there’s a new way to escape,” Dwight notes. “Thank god the Wraith didn’t find you.”

Relief is minimal on her face, and Jake knew the pain of watching fellow peers killed, being the last one, and surviving it all. Worse off, she had a strong sense of empathy. If anything, she must’ve felt the pain of being mutilated to death three times.

“I ran by the shack several times, but I never saw a hatch,” Meg comments. “Maybe it’s only revealed by that map.”

Dwight looks at Claudette. “I want that map back next trial.”

The few of them laugh, and Jake scratches his neck with an awkward grin. It seems like the dreams they had really did make them seem happier.


	4. Empathy II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm spending too much time setting up plot elements and delaying spicier/lighter content. It frustrates me but I also feel like I have to get this part through in order to make things clearer/better for future chapters.  
> Thankfully, this is the last of these dark intro chapters. I threw in a bit of Jake/Claudette moments for the shippers ;)
> 
> Warnings: mild descriptions of violence, mentions of torture, implied anxiety attack. Killer mains may be triggered by sabo Jake.

Until the next trial...

“No,” Jake whispers, almost ready to scald Claudette’s wound instead of healing it. “You distract your thoughts away from the pain, and take deep breaths.”

She tries to follow his words, but for some reason, bursts out a cry from the burning laceration across her abdomen. Jake decided hurrying his healing process would be faster than teaching her to endure the pain, especially when they were both injured.

Once Jake patches her up, Claudette follows. He feels a stinging pain from his right arm, and despite his overall pain diminishing, it pulsed uncomfortably.

_“When you return to the next trial, you will learn a new ability for yourself.”_

He sighs, grasping his right arm as Claudette finishes healing. Judging by her lack of comment, she likely didn’t detect anything.

Meg was on a hook, and Jake had no idea where Dwight was. Both he and Claudette had been on a hook once, with less than a generator completed. They had to change the momentum.

“I’ll distract the killer,” Jake says. “You go after Meg when I do.”

“What?” She almost pulls him back, shaking her head. “Why…why can’t I?”

He blinks at the obvious answer. Jake was able to stay quiet when he’s injured, which could increase his survival chance, and Claudette would know where he is because she had empathy that could feel any injury he has—

_Oh._

“Remember what I said about enduring the pain,” Jake reminds. “We don’t have much of a choice; you’re a much faster healer than me and you and Meg could get things going faster.”

Claudette doesn’t argue with that as she runs to the side to hide. Once she’s safe, Jake briefly scouts the area for a good plan. He learned that the killers’ larger size meant they were much slower at going through small openings. Making use of that extended his chasing time.

Since the killer was the Trapper, Jake knew the perfect distraction would be to tamper with them. Walking towards a sharp bush, he notices a discreet bear trap waiting for any unfortunate victim. With the most careful precision he could, Jake lowers his finger at the trigger, and immediately pulls it back after activating it. (A/N: do not mess with bear traps in real life; you can lose a finger)

The trap makes a sharp, loud sound as it snaps shut. That should do it.

When Jake is about to hide, he takes a second look at the trap, and pauses for a moment. He was able to disarm it by just tapping onto it. Judging by how hard it snapped shut, Jake guesses a few more of that and it may just break all together. After all, traps weren’t meant to work indefinitely.

Suddenly a bit mischievous, Jake reaches down and examines the trap. There were a few delicate wires holding it together, and the trigger that activates it is actually pretty weak. With a few snaps and a light yank, Jake feels the trap come off all together, falling into pieces and rendered essentially unusable.

_Holy crap, that was insane._

Jake stands up with adrenaline, and right at that instant he feels a serrating tear right over his chest thanks to the Trapper. He probably deserved that injury.

Trying to buy time, Jake decides to take advantage of the windows and openings, and manages to keep this on for about a minute. Eventually, though, the killer catches him from his leg as he’s about to vault for the eleventh time. In a sharp heave, the Trapper slugs Jake over his shoulder and hooks him again.

This would be the second time. That meant the Entity’s sharp limbs are ready to sacrifice him.

Jake does his best to try and fight off the Entity for a bit. He knew Claudette just saved Meg from the hook and is healing her quickly right now. Oh well, even if he died now, he certainly learned a new trick to pull. The Entity likely would want to talk to him again after this.

Deep in his thoughts and struggle with the Entity, Jake does not catch Dwight rushing in from the side, pulling Jake off the hook with a swift move.

“I can’t find the hatch,” he reports, healing Jake.

“Oh.” So that’s what he was doing the entire time. But even if Dwight couldn’t find it, his map likely contained the area where the generators were located.

For that, they were able to head to the nearest one in less than a minute. Dwight’s organizational abilities and command managed to speed fixing generators up well. Combined with that map, they were able to finish two generators in several minutes.

“Teamwork,” they cheer, and high-five each other.

Though it wasn’t the best time to celebrate since Jake felt Claudette and Meg injured. He tries to take in what Claudette taught him about empathy.

_“It’s that this kind of empathy is one that knows how the person is built when confronted with possible death.”_

He tries. He tries to remember the fears and horror upon seeing a killer raise his weapon down across his face. But all Jake could feel was his sense of hopelessness, back to when they had no trials and were forced to wander aimlessly. To be frank, it hasn’t been that long since he last lived those endless days. And maybe it was that, that Jake couldn’t mimic the same empathy Claudette has, and sighs in frustration as he hears a trap snap close and Claudette’s scream.

“Come on!” Dwight calls, heading somewhere. “She’s over there!”

Jake’s eyes widen as he follows his ally blindly. Could Dwight also have learned empathy? He supposes it would’ve made sense since he faced the same fears as anyone else could’ve, although that probably dented Jake’s sense of pride.

“Claudette!” Dwight cries, finding her in a matter of seconds. “Let me help you!”

He frees her from the trap, and she slowly moves away from the trap’s sharp jaws as Dwight begins to heal her.

Jake eyes it carefully. It’s the exact same build, and he highly doubts it’s any stronger than the others. With a quick decision, he bends down to the trap, pulling a few strings and breaking the fragile joints holding it together, and easily disables another trap.

“Whoa,” Dwight says. “How did you do that?”

“It’s like generators. They have these delicate parts that you can sever—”

Their heartbeats start racing and Jake knew the killer was likely behind them.

“We better run!” Dwight shouts, taking off quickly without them as if to set an example.

_What a leader._

Jake knew if they ran in the same direction no one would make it. He darts a direction neither Claudette nor Dwight went, and the killer didn’t appear to go after him. He thought of messing with more traps since he wasn’t sure where the generator was, and didn’t want to risk exposing someone. But right as he’s about to decide, he hears a nasty smack and Claudette’s agonized scream, getting louder towards him. At the same time, his heartbeat is growing louder.

_Uh oh._

The Trapper sees Jake and suddenly changes course, stomping towards him. No need to wonder why; the man’s messed with his traps twice, and that’s the killer’s main weapon. With a pelting blow on his left arm, Jake takes off to his right towards a large shack. Unfortunately for him, he spots Claudette trying to hide in that same area.

But there’s nowhere else to run.

When he ducks into the shack, he immediately makes his way towards the best hiding spot. Unfortunately again, Claudette chose the same place, though he felt proud she now knew which spots were most advantageous when deciding to hide. Her loud whimpering though, would likely give her away despite it.

“Claudette, listen to me,” Jake whispers. “Steady breaths. Take your thoughts away from the pain.”

She’s either trying or hyperventilating. He knew she would’ve broken down, given she had no break that the others enjoyed. Getting chased down, alone, repeatedly in pain, seeing others in pain, watching so carefully to avoid getting trapped, and likely stepped on one from a slight distraction, only to watch the entire thing happen again.

If she was breaking down, there was nothing Jake could do. He watches as Claudette’s tears start streaming down her face, pushed to a limit that death seemed to win regardless of her actions.

The sight severely stings Jake, and he’s struck with sudden memories of himself, before the trials existed. There was Jake, alone as always, grasping his abdominal wound as tightly as possible, yet still streaming with his liver’s gushing blood. The killer was close by, following the traces of his cries with ruthless intentions.

He had avoided all kinds of traps, from snares, pit traps, cage traps, and the infamous bear traps. And yet, requiring constant caution to do so much as walk a few steps, drained him to such weariness that he’d eventually slip up. One unfortunate step, and Jake was hauled upwards from a concealed snare, hitting his head in the process and letting out an accidental scream.

While Jake was lucky to have brought a stone knife, he was not lucky enough to avoid getting seen in time, and suffered a grievous wound trying to slide past the killer at a dead end. He ran, as fast as he could, and even in his escape, had to leap his way past multiple foothold traps, duck against lurching trees and avoid leaving as much visible clues as possible to lose trace.

But the killer never gave up, and at some point, Jake’s energy gave out in his hiding spot. He was panting loudly, groaning from his wound that was worsened by all those movements, and crying in apprehension, knowing he had nowhere else to go, but wait for the killer to find him, end him, and repeat the process all over again.

Returning to reality, Jake suddenly notices Claudette changing her location further from Jake. She was concealed behind a wagon, and yet, he could see a faint outline of her figure, just as he’s struck with the same sense of dread from his memories.

When Jake turns to the direction of the entrance to find the killer, he also sees another outline with hairs in small braids. Meg. She was feeling a rush of energy, of adrenaline, and ready to outrun the killer again, even if her wound was gaping loudly. It was the same feeling Jake had when challenged, and when he did not feel like dying anytime soon.

Was this empathy? Jake couldn’t tell if he was delighted or dreaded. He now knew where his allies were, but at a cost of feeling their exact pain.

Jake’s heartbeat increases, and with Claudette’s worse hiding place and her unstoppable cries, the Trapper found, slashed, and caught her in an instant.

There was a hook near the shack where the Trapper was likely to hang her on. Jake’s blood starts running harshly, when he watches Claudette sob as she’s picked up. The immediate feelings of despair rush in at him, just like back then, when he helplessly watched the Trapper hack endlessly at his organs while bleeding in a trap, as if enjoying the agonizing moment of Jake dying slowly.

He wasn’t going to have that happen with Claudette, who was already at her worst. In an instant whim, Jake rushes over to the hook and tries to analyze its mechanical structure. Ropes are wrapped snugly across two metal frames, binding them together, and the hook itself dangles from the two frames holding it together.

If Jake were to cut these ropes or loosen them, the hook might just fall off.

He crouches down and tries to unwrap the rope. It’s tightly bound. He’d need a blade, or a knife of some sort, but these trials let him bring anything other than that.

His heartbeat grows louder.

Jake remembers how he escaped the snare the trapper caught him with a long time ago. A stone knife. Without hesitation, Jake tries to scavenge for one, and picks up the closest palm-sized rock he can find. It was barely sharp enough and Jake quickly scratches its edge in a feeble attempt to sharpen it.

His heartbeat wouldn’t stop pounding and when Jake turns around, he sees the Trapper facing the other way, glaring at something in the distance.

That white shirt…it’s Dwight!

Jake hastens his sharpening and once it’s barely enough, immediately goes straight on to cutting the ropes. Much like he remembers, the ropes the Trapper uses are obviously thick, designed to resist damage, from a normal animal, that is. Jake furiously saws at it with his nearly blunt stone, and watches it come loose.

He hears Dwight’s cry and with a peek, sees him distance himself, but not before turning around again to return a fierce gaze.

Jake knew that Dwight was anything but actually fierce in his look, and it’s a bluff on the viewer’s end. Dwight’s probably the most terrified of all survivors, but he sure is a good person at hiding it when others are around.

The rope snaps off, and Jake notices the hook looser than before. He’d have to saw off a few more lines before it’d come off all together. His desperation starts climbing. There’s no way he’d do this in time with a barely edged stone. Yet all the same he tries again, running out of time as he hears Dwight being the next one down on the ground.

He turns to see the killer, and Claudette, who watches Dwight fall to the ground, begins to struggle from his grasp.

The second rope is nowhere near cut through and Jake resorts to pulling it apart. He had less than a minute, judging by the distance. At the moment he curses the situation she’s in, Jake felt his right arm pulse, and in that moment the rope snaps. The killer sees him from less than ten meters away, and Jake looks at the hook.

It’s extremely loose. With less than a second to think, he recklessly leaps at it, grabbing its long end, and falling straight down with his grip firm. It nearly slides out with a screeching sound, and Jake thrashes down once again with all his weight. The hook dislodges with a grating scream, and Jake falls to the ground, the hook accidentally stabbing into his wrist in the process.

The trapper stops in his tracks, as if in disbelief. Caught off guard, he grunts as Claudette wretches out of his grasp, taking off in a different direction as Jake realizes he needs to run. Fast.

At this point he has no reason to wonder why the Trapper desperately wants him now. So he does his best to lead him away from his friends as he feels a disturbing crunch on his shoulder, and falls from impact. The Trapper leads him to the nearest hook, and Jake knew he was done in the match.

The sacrifice happened almost immediately, with the Entity’s legs jabbing at his arms several times more than his heart before it carried him away into the abyss.

This time, when Jake wakes up, he could see nothing, being surrounded in a black fog. He didn’t need to see to realize the Entity is gnawing at his right arm again.

“What sort of superhuman strength did you give me last match?” he asks, trying to shift his arm. Unsurprisingly, it’s bound down without freedom, much like the rest of him.

**“You already saw what abilities you gained.** ”

Messing with bear traps, learning empathy at last, and being able to sabotage a hook, the main way a killer ends victims in these trials. Now thinking back on all these, Jake’s genuinely amazed at how he was able to handle all these emotionally and physiologically. That stress would kill a normal person, even if they survived the match.

“What was the point of giving me those abilities?” he demands, a bit offended that the Entity is forcing him to go through more than he’s getting numbed to. “And don’t say it’s to make things more interesting.”

**“It did make things more interesting.”**

Jake wanted to curse at the Entity.

**“But due to your actions, the other survivors have experienced hope in greater amounts than the previous trials. Hope is an emotion that easily promotes fear. You did far better than expected.”**

Of all kinds of compliments, getting one from the Entity is not a pleasant one. He feels himself fading in consciousness already, the first time it was painless.

**“Enjoy your reward, Jake Park.”**

When Jake next wakes up, he’s lying in a soft, grassy field. The young man barely opens his eyes against a blinding light and a familiar heat.

The sun. He hasn’t felt it in so long.

Jake sits up, taking in the view before him. This looks nothing like a trial ground or the dark forest he’s been in before trials. It was just a green, grassy meadow. That’s it.

At first, Jake wonders what kind of reward an empty field is. That is, until he sits there for a full minute, completely calmly with zero interventions. There was no killer in this place, at least with his still heart, and no visible black fog. He would neither be chased down nor summoned to a trial to be chased down.

Suddenly Jake realizes why the other survivors’ first reward is just…this. It sounded neither amazing nor rewarding in a way, but to actually experience a prolonged time of certain safety and freedom from fear…

Jake knew it was a cruel reward, because the moment they returned, they’d be twice as vulnerable to those same emotions they escaped.

Still, getting to experience peace for even an hour is amazing. Jake lies back down, lets out a deep breath, and closes his eyes. He knew the sun was fake, and that the Entity could only replicate the same heat a familiar campfire gave off. Yet the idea of it was a bliss. He had seen only a moon for the longest time of his life. When he died, there was a moon. When he breathed, there was a moon.

Jake felt himself drift off for a bit before getting back up. The Entity had not made it clear how long he would have this place to himself, but he’s guessing a few hours, at least. He decides to search the place.

As it turns out, it seems the Entity knew more than bizarrely-shaped walls and replications. Though a good distance away, Jake could spot out a waterfall and a river, along with trees growing around it. He swears he wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a rainbow in there somewhere, but he settles for a cabin nearby.

That’s when it hit him.

It’s the same kind of cabin he used to live back then.

Little did others know, Jake had a fair experience living in the woods before being captured by the Entity. The glorious Park family, who had it all, clearly didn’t have struggles in life like the poor or outcasts. That was what everyone lied. Jake knew everyone preferred his brother over him, that his brother was the ideal heir, and that his brother was the perfect role model. Jake was just a backup. A shadow, if anything. And calling himself that was a compliment compared to his genuine achievements.

Of course, money could buy anything, from approval to friends. And in short time, Jake’s own rebellion covered his life with lies. His own father, used to such lies, never once sought to understand anything apart from the wealthy world they lived in.

So Jake took it to himself to live outside that world.

And of course, that was how he got here. Stuck in some Entity’s world repeating trial after trial a match for the death.

It’s not a wonder that the Entity would know glimpses of his past. Still, as Jake observes the discolored wall and the lack of a fold in the blanket nearby, he knew it was still just the Entity’s imitation.

He steps out the cabin and turns to the river. At that moment, he notices someone in the distance.

“Claudette?”

She turns around, and looks as genuinely confused as he had been at first.

Jake remembers now. She didn’t have a break when Dwight and Meg did, and the Entity was likely giving it to her at last. Judging by her look, she might’ve just gotten here.

“What’s that cabin, Jake?” she asks. “Are we in a trial?”

Jake almost laughs at that last question, since being in a trial meant all sorts of emotional horrors. But at last, for now, they were free from such misery.

They sat by a makeshift table, courtesy of the Entity, and Jake serves Claudette a second serving of tea, also courtesy of the Entity.

If it weren’t for what they’ve just been through, this normal scenario would’ve been less hilarious and absurd. It’s nearly as if they’ve reached heaven themselves.

“I used to have to do this back then,” Jake storytells. “Though I always thought they wasted time.”

“Looks like we have plenty of that now,” Claudette jokes.

Her snark humor means her sanity is replenishing. Jake feels a drop of relief.

“Though I never would’ve guessed. Jake Park, the son of a wealthy CEO, turn away from his fortune to live in a forest.”

“If fortune is all you see and feel, it’d be a nice prison for sure.”

She offers a condoling smile. It’s not fake and Jake would laugh, how much he’d have that now, when it no longer matters.

“I used to be one of the best in my school,” she starts. “A lot of people like to hype up that reputation, and it really…wasn’t what I liked. So I can understand some of what you felt.”

This was new. Jake rarely heard others give away their backstory, although Dwight isn’t as secretive and revealed his bullying stories as early as day one. Maybe some kind of justification he was just a victim and wanted out.

He thought he’d get to know his peers better by this point. It’d both help with empathy and strengthen their bond together.

“What did you study back then?” he starts.

“Botany.”

A science major in which Jake had no clue what it was.

“Was it fun?”

“I…guess…”

“How so?”

“I just…like it.”

They went dead silent after that. Jake takes a sip from his tea and Claudette follows shortly. Speak of the devil, Jake was a solitary survivor and Claudette a socially awkward genius.

With how quickly Dwight managed to get along with everyone, Jake wouldn’t be surprised anymore why he’s that much better of a leader. Despite Dwight’s occasional hiccups and locker-hiding syndromes, Jake suddenly gains a profound respect for the man’s talent.

He and Claudette have to rely on adrenaline-pumping situations to make a conversation. That actually irks Jake. It almost feels intentional.

“So…” he tries to start, “I dropped out of university after a year.”

_Way to start a conversation, Jake._

“My brother, you see, graduated from Yale, and with honors. Even if I went to a prestigious school just like him, I’d never be impressive.”

There’s a silence, and Jake’s heart is pumping, ironically at his ally. He probably hasn’t hold casual conversation in years.

“I see,” Claudette responds. “Well, if anything, school and grades don’t really mean everything once you’re out there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was top in my class, like I said.” She says this without any hint of arrogance or intent to brag, not that there was any reason to. “But when it came to real world situations, I’m close to the bottom of the class. It was hard for me to make presentations or work together. And no matter how great the name was or my grades were, that problem became the reason I was just average…at best. I could see someone struggling in class get a job faster than I could hope to prepare for an interview.”

Jake wasn’t that oblivious. Even if he failed school his father’s wealth could promise him an eternity of comfort. But still, hearing it in person was a different story. If only they were still in the same world of schools, work, money, and reality, this would’ve come off far differently, maybe even life-changing, to Jake.

“What would you do about that then?” he curiously asks. “The pressure I mean. Doesn’t your school send those repetitive reminders on how to find jobs after graduating?”

“I mean, I guess. And at some point, I thought about it.” She coyly looks at her tea, as if remembering a fond memory. “But I guess at the same time, I was just…content. See, I still love botany, and everything related to it. When people didn’t, it was like the plants spoke to me. They gave me this sort of…comfort, like I’ve always been around it.”

Jake knew that feeling. He lived in a forest for years and he knows the peace that nature could harbor that society always screams away.

“Sometimes, I just think, if I could help people understand this feeling, I’d be fine as I am. And out in the Internet, there’s people from all over the world with bigger questions than just school or local community. So that was my outlet, I guess. As long as I was making a difference somewhere, I don’t think school could’ve dented me in guilt.”

Jake watches her sip her tea in silence. Everything she said sounded so familiar, yet so different. Jake also found comfort in nature, just as Claudette did, only he never felt obligated to share knowledge with others. In fact, he couldn’t, because everyone would recognize him right away. Jake Park, heir of a billionaire company, tries to offer advice on living in solitude like an outcast.

If only he hadn’t had pressure everywhere he looked, maybe he would’ve found solace some other way. Like the Internet, maybe. People could write all sorts of spicy stories on it, and nobody would ever know who you were. Except somehow, everyone knows it’s Jake when it’s Jake. He knew someday a maid would stumble upon his journals. He knew someday, someone could track down where he stayed. He knew someday, his father would just return the pressure, wondering why a lucky son like him would rebel so much against this lavish lifestyle.

An odd feeling wells in his heart. He wonders what his father is feeling now, after Jake has disappeared, for likely years. Did they tell him he got lost? Escaped and never was found again? Or did they say Jake was killed? Missing, eaten by an animal? Jake would laugh at the last part because the forest he’s lived in has no such animals. It too, has already been tampered by mankind.

One thing’s for sure, Jake is still himself, and even if Claudette had familiar experiences or feelings, she couldn’t be any similar to him.

Still, knowing that Claudette has genuine feelings like him, it made Jake relieved in some way. Like they’ve formed a new bond.

The two of them remained by the table, for a while longer, conversing about random topics. Then, when Jake felt the sun’s heat slowly simmer down, the world around them also began to crack and dissolve into mists of black fog. Their break time was up, and he felt the Entity wrap its fog around them, warping them back to the campfire discreetly, as if they’ve just been sleeping in the eyes of other survivors.

**“I look forward to your next decisions,”** Jake hears the Entity whisper.

His next decisions were nowhere near impressive. In the trial after, Jake gets speared twice by the hook in less than a minute, and by the third time, he sees all three survivors running around with their leaking wounds, not doing any generators or getting chased, and laughs at how screwed they were.

And the trial after that…not so great either. A poor choice and bad strategy caused all four of them to slowly die from a lack of progression.

And the trial after that, only Meg survived.

And the trial after that, Dwight missed the hatch.

And the trial after that, the Hillbilly executed everyone he downed.

And the trial after that, Jake stepped in one too many traps.

And this went on, for an insurmountable time of endless repetitions.

_Just like the Entity wanted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally done with the intro chapters! Next chapter up in a week or so...I gotta cram summer projects now :')


	5. Scandal I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally the beginning of the story! I actually intended the genre to be more like this black comedy mood than all the drama earlier.
> 
> Warnings: Violence, mild graphic content. 
> 
> Meg makes a move on Jake with a syringe.

Jake was done trying to pull people off the hook after he’d done his best to sabotage all other hooks that they could’ve just stayed close to. Call it a rush, whatever kinds of panic that makes one senseless and illogical, but how is staying in half of the entire 10,000 square meters of the trial ground that hard?

And how in the world, after all this time Jake’s been running around from generator to generator to hook to person on hook back to generator and back to new person on hook…has less than 2 generators been completed? What were the others doing?!

_Being on hooks…_

It’s no surprise when he gets caught by the Wraith and sacrificed after three miserable attempts that they lost the trial.

One of them even had a key. They still lost. And now they’re all back huddling around the campfire debating what to do now that they lost one of the keys.

At times, Jake didn’t know how to even address the situation. He knew that the longer the others ran around, frightened out of their life, the better it is for the Entity to feed off them, and the kinder their eventual reward. Of course, at the end of it all, they’ll all see their demise at the Void when they’ve become hollow and soulless.

Except for him, of course. And that’s the only reason he even knows about the others’ fates.

“Heavy thoughts from last match?” he hears Meg ask him from behind.

Jake breaks out of his thoughts and looks at her. Out of all survivors, Meg is the fastest of them and can even occasionally outrun the killers. That came with pros and cons. The pros were obvious, and Meg’s proven a record of four minutes of chase. The cons was an ineffective strategy should the killer not bother chasing her, a rather undeveloped sense of stealth, and nothing like Dwight’s leadership or Claudette’s healing skills to make up for it.

“Getting sacrificed never burns any less,” Jake answers. It’s the most honest and polite response he can give.

“Oh, that.” She shudders a bit. “You know that thing the Entity said on day one? That pain is the hardest thing to adapt to?”

How could he forget? It was the day it marked the end of never-ending open world free massacre, and the beginning of these trials. That they still can lose obsessively even though it’s around their 15th trial by now.

“It was right, wasn’t it?” Jake says open-endedly. “Still, we have nothing to offer for it.”

Or did they?

Jake suddenly felt a growing sense of dare. No, he and the others would always suffer and be in pain, even if they can heal or endure it at costs. But what’s that to say about anything else that happens? What if they still fix the generators, but instead of fleeing at the sight of the killer, as they always did in fear, they flat out ignored him and pretended it was nothing? Judging by the fact that some killers _hated_ it when Jake stood still sometimes upon making eye contact rather than running, he knew this was perfect vengeance.

Ideas start running in Jake’s mind that he accidentally forgets about Meg.

“Jake?” she repeats for the third time.

“Oh…sorry.” He cracks a horrible smile. “I was…distracted.”

Again, not a lie. Again, the politest thing to say that’s also honest.

“Okay, well, so I said I got a first aid kit and a tiny-looking syringe with it from the Entity. That and a pack of bandages. What about you?”

“Er…uhm…” He quickly mentally thinks in his head, calling for the Entity to trade in something. 

_Anything usable works._

And in exchange, from the fog dropping onto his hand, is a flashlight leather grip with no flashlight on it.

“…a handle.”

“Oh.”

He’s ready to toss the handle into the campfire, if only it was destroyable in the first place. More often than not Jake gets essentially useless things from the Entity, from flashlight grips to scraps and rags, that don’t even work but add to the arsenal of Dwight’s toolbox. Which of course, sometimes doesn’t get used seeing as they all get killed at the end anyways.

He knows the Entity purposely gives the others more items because it gives them more hope that it can feed on. Whether or not he’s flattered that the Entity thinks he can survive just fine without tools, it always makes the trials the same for him.

A red box enters his view, and Jake realizes Meg’s handing it to him.

“Here,” she says. “It’s my spare one, anyways.”

“You should keep it. You always distract the killer for us.”

“I have plenty more of them. Honestly, it’s no big deal.”

Her expression and brief spike in adrenaline that Jake felt with empathy meant she was lying. But it was probably in the kindest way.

“Thanks, Meg.”

“Anytime.”

Moments later, as the mood settled down, Jake walks over to Dwight, and hands him his leather grip.

“I saw you get a flashlight and I happened to get this grip.”

“Oh…thanks.” Dwight takes the grip and tries to wrap it around the handle. With his hands shaking, he slips and it falls right back down to the ground.

Jake laughs and takes the flashlight, wrapping it with the leather grip he got.

“Those clothes you got, looks like you have blood stains on it.”

“It’s what happens when you die too many times, I guess. They don’t come off actually. I tried that before.”

Dwight immediately scans his clothing and is relieved to find it free from blood stains. In an odd way, the stains made Jake proud of some sort, having been through the most of these trials agonized and determined. Sooner or later though, they’d all be blood stained.

“So…everything with you and Meg going great?” Dwight suddenly asks.

That makes Jake pause. “Meg?”

“Yeah. She’s been running a lot these days for you.”

If anything, Jake could catch himself running more often trying to do gens, hooks, healing… But he would be lying if he said Meg didn’t look like she was trying.

“I’m pretty sure she’s running from the killer.”

That makes Dwight laugh for some reason, and Jake settles it at that. If they can get some humor, that’s enough for him.

“You son of a—!” SMACK. And down he went.

Jake couldn’t be 100% angry at the Wraith for single-mindedly chasing him down though. He messed with four of his hooks and judging by the design of it, damaging a hook was likely personal.

Unlike usual, though, the Wraith did not pick him up. It was probably because he wouldn’t reach a hook in time before Jake would fight out of his grasp. But upon looking up, it turns out Dwight flickering the flashlight at him was the main reason. Of all killers, Jake knew the Wraith was most sensitive to light. And of all killers, that usually is the trigger point for him. Without hesitation, the killer charges straight after Dwight, and a familiar cry of pain echoes through the field.

Just then, Jake feels footsteps rushing towards him—Meg. She somehow reaches him in a few seconds.

“Hang on, Jake,” she says, opening her first aid kit.

“You mean…lay low. I’m nowhere on a hook.”

He decides his sense of humor has deteriorated since the last few losing matches.

Meg pulls out a tiny syringe, and injects it at Jake’s arm. Almost immediately, the man felt the strength to stand up, and without any residual pain. This shocks both him and Meg, but perhaps Meg the most, given his sudden change of state.

“Um…thanks,” he says. “That was one powerful syringe.”

“No kidding,” Meg responds a little confused.

Dwight’s loud scream gets both of their attention.

“Do you have any more of it?”

“No, just one.”

He rushes off towards Dwight’s direction immediately, remembering the hook that he was interrupted from sabotaging. Sadly his running speed is nowhere near Meg’s, and it takes that much time for him to fail miserably at rescue, watch Dwight get speared by the hook, and earn a rude smack from the killer, causing him to retreat.

The Wraith disappears and Jake hides behind a brick wall.

“Jake,” Meg whispers, walking towards him. She tries to heal him as quickly as she can. “What was that for?”

“I was trying to sabotage that hook before he got to him.” The blood trickles down his face. “Guess it didn’t work. I almost hung out with Dwight. Heh.”

Yes, his sense of humor is seriously demented.

“Will you stop that?” Meg snaps. “Charging in recklessly is only going to get you killed. Next time, we could just plan something together, like have me rush to slow him down and you can do the hook.”

_Oh_. Jake hadn’t thought of that. He was so used to operating alone, that maybe it’s starting to work against him.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes.

“No, it’s okay. I just got upset because you got hurt.”

“I promise not to waste any more valuable medicine in the future then.” Jake turns back to the ghastly sight of Dwight, painfully suspended on the meat hook from nothing but his shoulder.

“Let’s split up. You go from the right, and if the Wraith rings his bell at you, you lead him away. I’ll go from the left. If the Wraith rings the bell at me, I’ll do the same.”

Meg bites her lip but follows with the plan. Unfortunately, the Wraith was in the middle and managed to get both of them. They retreat back to the same area where the killer went back to guarding Dwight.

“Okay, plan B.” He starts healing Meg. “We’re probably both going to have to charge at Dwight, but for all we know, he can only chase one of us. So we both try to get him off the hook and whoever does, the other guards Dwight.”

“That’s insane! He’s going to get one of us then!”

“You can probably outrun him, even with a wound. Dwight has a flashlight so he’s fine. And me, if he comes after me, I can hide and try to lose him.”

She shakes her head, but at this point, Dwight is nearly sacrificed and struggling to prevent the Entity from killing him. Even if it was a terrible plan, at least neither of them were hooked yet, and they could stall.

At the cue, they both take off together, Meg clearly outrunning Jake and Jake ignoring his feelings of shame to focus on Dwight. The ghostly bell begins to ring, and fiery sparks of the Wraith began to dissolve him visible. He clearly notices Meg first, and decides to aim at her.

This means Jake would have to save Dwight. He tries to make it behind the Wraith’s view and dashes to the hook. And yet, even when he’s sure he’s out of the killer’s line of sight, his arm is battered brutally by a powerful swing, making it difficult to lift.

The Wraith probably knew. Jake is already injured and the only way he can get out of this is by running now, hiding, or abusing a distraction. But his goal is to save, and there’s no clear option for him to survive normally. Catching Meg running towards Dwight, Jake budges in front of the Wraith, stepping to where the killer tries, and putting his arms out.

“No,” he firmly demands, blocking the Wraith with his wounded body.

It seemed a decent idea to physically block a killer, and get downed in a nerve-shaking hit at his neck. And yet, it just worked, buying enough time for Meg to rescue Dwight and barely get a lead. They took off in different directions, and as the Wraith chases after Meg, Dwight shines his flashlight at him, trying to blind his sight as the Wraith desperately avoids its light.

“God damn it, just run!” Jake shouts.

He does, leaving Jake on the ground and watching the Wraith cloak into invisibility again. He must really hate Dwight this match, probably because of the flashlight. Jake sucks in a deep breath and crawls as far as he can from the hook, hoping to reach the area where he sabotaged most of them. He could faintly see the outlines of his comrades across the field. Claudette is working on a generator, Meg is running somewhere, and Dwight is getting chased.

Once he’s far away enough from the hook, he takes a look at his horrifying wounds. Battered, splintered, torn skin, and enough blood to paint a trail right to him. He grabs a medicinal patch from his pocket, seeing if it would work on him again, and surprisingly, it did.

The healing speed was achingly slow, though, and when Jake had barely sealed a third of the wound, he sees Meg limping towards him, ready to heal his wounds. The only difference is this time, she had no syringe.

“Aarrgh!” he screams, when she rushes a gaping wound. “Please, I’m injured.”

“I’m sorry, I thought I saw him.”

“Who? The Wraith? Don’t worry, he’s after Dwight.”

Only when Jake takes a look around, he sees Dwight calmly walking around, non-indicative of a chase. His body tenses up, even when his condition is recovering.

“Wait, stop, let me heal you first.” His wounds are still fresh and bleeding, but of the two, he could hide better if wounded.

Still, the inevitable happened, and without a doubt, the chilling chime of the Wraith’s bell sounds, and Jake uses the last second to finish patching Meg up. He receives a harsh blow onto his fragile back and falls right back down again. And yet again for some reason the Wraith doesn’t even bother picking him up and dragging him anywhere near a hook. Instead, he opts to catch a rather fast Meg who burst off.

Jake decides to patch himself again. Of all things that can’t be healed, the massive amounts of blood is one of them. He’s hardly seen it happen, but Jake’s learned that this rate of bleeding is fatal and that some of them have died this way.

Just as he wonders if this is his fate this match, he hears someone running over to him and patching him up. It’s Dwight.

“How do you stay quiet with injuries this terrible?” he asks, half-groaning himself from the wound the hook pierces through.

“If death depends on it, it’ll come—”

The bell sounds.

“DWIGHT, RUN!”

He manages to be healed enough to barely stand, and using that to his advantage, blocks the Wraith from attacking Dwight again. The end result is back to square one, and the Wraith turning towards the direction of Dwight.

“Hey! Just hook me!” Jake yells, having hugged the ground longer than dangling from a hook. It doesn’t work.

This time, Jake doesn’t even bother patching himself up and just crawls to the best corner he can find. Fortunately, it was close to Claudette, who managed to heal him fast enough.

“That’s so much blood lost,” she notes painfully.

“Ugh, compare that to the number of times I got smacked for it.”

He regretted giving her that imagery. By the time Claudette had completely healed him, Dwight lets out an echoing scream, and Jake knew this would be his third time on the hook, and therefore, he was dead.

In the end, they failed to save him.

The rest of the trial goes as usual, and Jake gave up on sabotaging hooks and went for the generators. Partway through he split up with Claudette, met up with Meg, split up again, failed to save Claudette, and ended up retreating to the corner healing Meg.

“I hate this match,” Jake thinks out loud.

“It’s not your fault,” Meg says.

Maybe it isn’t, but somehow it’s related to him. He and Meg failed to save Dwight quickly, then his bleeding body was borrowed as bait, rendering the save useless in the end, repeated this with Claudette, and now he and Meg are left with three generators.

“I’ll go and let the Wraith take his anger on me. Then you look for the hatch and escape.”

“What? That’s hardly a good plan at all!”

“Knowing that guy, he’s probably going to leave me on the ground to get you to save me. It’s better if you keep yourself hidden until the hatch opens.”

“If he’s going to leave you on the ground, won’t you just…bleed to death?”

Jake gives a painful smile. “It’s alright, I’ve never had that happen before. It’d be interesting to see what it’s like.”

That was hardly the appropriate response and hardly the response that calmed Meg down. And that’s how he lets her sob on his shoulder, audible enough for the Wraith to ring the bell, and breaking both of them away from each other with a cracking smack.

It hits Meg, and that infuriates Jake. He had a plan.

Running as fast as he can, he tries to vault his way over to her as swiftly as possible. In a way, it works. The Wraith growls at him and thrashes his skull-shaped weapon against Jake’s ribs, breaking at least two in the process, but Jake continues blocking him.

“I’m right here! Why don’t you hook me?”

His answer is a shove towards the ground, with his broken ribs puncturing his lungs. It would be fatal if the Entity allowed it. Sadly, Jake has never died from this kind of damage, and mystically enough, a hook over the shoulder was the only other way to kill him.

Wait a minute…

Jake looks around, cursing for the first time that he sabotaged too many hooks. Grasping his snapped ribcage, the young man dashed his way over to the field, eyes eagerly out for any hooks in proximity. One of them stood aloof on the hill, dangling in a perfect public sight. In an instant he makes his way over, quite certain his internal bleeding has worsened tremendously, escalating his pain.

He scans the area, noticing Meg barely outrunning the Wraith by a wall. She was smart and knew nimbleness was the survivors’ only advantage, but not for long. Biting down his pain, Jake climbs onto the hook, the effort hurting him harsher than what he’s about to do.

In that instant, Meg screams as she’s hit, and Jake curses.

“Hey!” he shouts. “Look here!”

The Wraith actually turns his way over and stares.

“You really had just one job as a killer, and that’s to kill on these hooks. What a shame you’ll displease the Entity today, because for the first time, a survivor is about to do your job!”

In a swift action, Jake swings down at the perfect angle, and pierces himself through the hook, in probably the most unflattering way. It sears right past his shoulder and jams crudely against his shoulder blade, ripping a horrifying sound. Doesn’t matter. Jake felt the same burning sensation and chuckles at how this, too, can work as a sacrifice.

Despite this being his first hook, Jake notices the Entity’s spidery legs rise from above, ready to sacrifice him. He doesn’t bother resisting. In a clean, swift stab, he loses consciousness immediately, catching the sight of the Wraith rushing towards him before he’s taken up into the sky, sacrificed entirely.

He hears the limbs cracking before he even opens his eyes…not that he could see anything anyways, being covered with senseless black fog.

**“Jake Park. What lengths will you go to to amuse me?”**

Jake wants to scoff, but he settles for closing his eyes, hoping to sleep.

“What makes you think I’m doing it for you?”

**“Perhaps not intentionally, you twist the mechanics of these trials to unpredictable lengths. You experience an emotion greater than anything intended. It is as if you will never make your soul consumable.”**

“So what? Are you going to let me go then? From all these trials?”

He highly doubts it. But what use was it to keep a survivor that it can’t feed on?

**“That is not possible.”**

“Then tell me something…why the four of us? Why were we taken to your world?”

**“The four of you happened to stumble into a manifestation I had already implanted nearby. Regrettably, you four were not the original targets.”**

This fact shakes Jake to the core. So they weren’t chosen in any way? They were just unlucky? How in the world could that ever be fair?

“So…” he breathes, trying to calm himself from this fact. “Who are the original targets?”

**“The ones you flee from or fall by their hands.”**

_Killers_. It made perfect sense then. The Entity targeted such disoriented, heartless individuals, to make into instigators of terror by unwillingly victims. Said terror than creates the very emotion that it can feed on for power.

It’s as nasty as a truth as their eventual demise. The more he knew, the worse it got.

“Funny enough, that was hardly the case in the last match. He didn’t even bother hooking me. Maybe the killers are getting bored too.”

**“The Wraith did not hook you because he offered a Cypress Memento Mori. It permits him to kill the last remaining survivor in any way he pleases.”**

That made far more sense. Jake couldn’t see what the point was of the Wraith avoiding him if he so hated him in the beginning for messing with the hooks. What better retribution than a tormenting execution when all hope is lost?

It’s a shame Jake felt less and less of those kinds of emotions, and more of the annoyance, the longer he stays in these trials.

A twisting jab at his spine shoots Jake’s eyes open, and he squirms away from it. No change. Based on what happened the last time to his arm and granted him sabotaging abilities, Jake is certain this is another “gift” by the Entity of a new skill.

“Need me to entertain you further?” he grunts, trying to distract himself from the pain, but it was worse than any scalding wound by far.

**“You seem unpleased. Are you not looking forward to it?”**

“I’ve been in at least six trials nonstop now. What do you think?”

**“You desire a reward.”**

“I desire a day away from this endless generator-fixing shenanigan. It’s been years since I’ve been in touch with true nature. Years! Not those poorly-shaped rocks you plant in random corners for hiding, trees that are all the same sets of thickness, and crows that don’t even have a living breath!”

The lurching pain in his back isn’t helping Jake any better with his frustration. And the fact that he can’t move, not even to kick his legs, only angers him more.

**“A day, you want? That certainly is reasonable, perhaps even less than deserved. Only what will you do next match after you have taken your reward?”**

“If you can replicate what I used to live in, and maybe give back some of my old friends, I’ll give you a show even better than what you saw today.”

**“That is fair. Then, you may have your reward until next trial. I look forward to seeing how you will change.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School starts in 2 weeks for me, so update time is no longer as fast as before. Your author needs to study for MCAT too...*cries* Expect about 1 week for each chapter.


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